Harmony

Viola did, in fact, scream.

Granted, her face had been buried deep in her hands at the time. Still, one brief instance of shock had so quickly been replaced with abject rage that it genuinely made Octavia flinch.

“Why are you here? Why is he here?” she cried repeatedly, tangling her fingers into her hair.

Madrigal had the exact opposite reaction. In place of her usual bravado, she waved shyly at the boy, giggling in utter infatuation. When he offered a playful wink in return, she swooned, averting her gaze with an ear-to-ear smile. The auction was not to be forgotten, apparently.

Harper, in notable contrast to every party, was oblivious. “Uh, who is this?”

“This,” Octavia began, hands outstretched in the boy’s direction, “is Renato.”

“At your service,” he offered teasingly, tipping his hat yet again towards Harper.

Harper blinked. With his expression devoid of anything but confusion, he slowly tipped his own cap in return.

“You’re following us!” Viola growled, her glare sharp enough to kill. “You’re actually following us!”

“Just a little,” Renato teased once more. “I follow the fun. You guys are always interesting. Plus, I’d never pass up the opportunity to bask in the presence of such beautiful people.”

Harper cleared his throat. “And men,” he interjected disdainfully.

Renato winked at him. “I know what I said.”

Harper blushed.

“Though my eyes are really for my Maddie only,” he continued, flicking a lazy finger gun in her direction. With two fingers, she traced a heart into the air, her expression positively delighted.

“How did you even get here? The train from Coda only leaves once a week, and you weren’t on it. Where’d you even get a passport to get through the gate?” Octavia asked.

Renato grinned. “The cargo compartments aren’t too uncomfortable, believe it or not. And some innocent rich guy from the auction house might be one passport shorter. Granted, that second one is his fault for not checking his pockets well enough.”

“You stowed away,” Viola spat.

“You stole a passport,” Octavia added.

“You’re so handsome,” Madrigal breathed, her cheeks resting comfortably in her hands.

“I’m not following any of this,” Harper interjected, waving his hands in a plea for peace. “Renato, right? You mentioned him once. Who exactly is this guy to any of you?”

“I’ll explain. Renato, take a seat,” Octavia offered.

“Don’t take a seat, actually. Consider leaving instead,” Viola growled.

“Sit, Renato,” Octavia ordered, pointing sharply at the nearest chair.

Renato blinked beneath their conflicting demands--and beneath Octavia’s highly abrasive orders. “Yes, ma’am.”

Even when stretching and crossing his legs, he was surely still conscious of the way Viola glared daggers into him. He could do nothing else but smirk under her gaze, only perpetuating the vicious scent of bloodlust in the air. Madrigal moving her seat ever closer to Renato’s own was the breaking point for Octavia, the grating squeak of chair legs against the floor slowly driving her insane. She rubbed her temples impatiently.

“Are we done? Is everyone done?” Octavia hissed, more than irritated.

She was incredibly relieved to earn the silence she’d hoped for, even if it came at the cost of her palpable aggravation. Madrigal failed to read the room, instead nodding fervently as she flashed a bright thumbs-up to the Maestra. Octavia sighed.

“Harper,” Octavia repeated, turning to the Maestro accordingly, “this is Renato. Madrigal, Viola and I met him in the forest outside Minuevera when we were on our way to Coda.”

She paused, well aware of the way Viola’s mouth had parted in the slightest--whether to speak, shout, berate, or some combination of the three, Octavia didn’t want to know. With a look that could kill, she fought to intimidate the girl into biting her tongue. “Don’t say a word,” she mouthed silently. “I mean it.”

She skipped the more controversial aspects of their initial encounter, continuing. “We met up again at the auction while you were outside. He left before we found you, and now he’s…here, apparently.”

She chanced a look at Renato, who was still in the middle of stretching comfortably. He winked at her once more, and she groaned.

“Most importantly, he’s a Maestro,” she finished.

“Wait, really?” Harper asked, his eyes wide. “I’ve never met a Maestro who wasn’t a…well, a Maestra.”

Octavia smirked somewhat. “What’s wrong with Maestras?” she teased.

“N-Nothing,” Harper sputtered, waving his hands defensively.

“I’ve still got no idea what that means, but I’m always carrying these little guys,” Renato interrupted, withdrawing two halves of cherry oak from the inner confines of his vest. “Supposedly, there’s more than meets the eye here.”

Harper eyed the drumsticks with interest, leaning forward slightly in his seat. “That’s your Harmonial Instrument? Or, uh…instruments?”

Renato shrugged, twirling one stick half-heartedly in either hand. “Apparently.”

When Harper offered only a puzzled look to Octavia, she continued. “Somehow, he’s proficient with his instrument despite not having known anything about Maestros before meeting us. I haven’t…entirely figured out how.”

“What’s your instrument’s name?” Harper asked Renato.

Renato’s grin was slowly slipping off his face. He shrugged again.

Once more, Harper handed Octavia the same confused expression. It was Octavia’s turn to shrug.

“You still don’t know?” Viola pressed, seemingly spared of further ire.

Renato shook his head. “Hey, man, I still don’t even know what exactly I’m supposed to be learning here. Be nice to a new guy.”

“At the very least, I think we figured out what your…affinity, I guess, is,” Octavia offered. She wished she’d found a better word for it, at this point. “The strength of sound, apparently.”

Renato’s bright grin fell just barely short of condescending. “Cool! I have no idea what that means.”

Madrigal leaned closer to Renato, her head nearly touching his shoulder. “I don’t think the people here would mind having another Maestro around!”

Octavia sighed. She wasn’t necessarily wrong. There was merit in bringing Renato along, loath as she was to admit it. She doubted it would go well with all parties involved. She opened her mouth to ask regardless. As expected, she didn’t get far.

“No,” Viola spat.

“Viola, she has a point,” Octavia answered, well aware of the direction of the conversation to come.

“He’s not staying with us, he’s not coming with us, and he’s not interacting with us.”

“Five Maestros is better than four Maestros, and we have no idea exactly what Sonata even wants us to do.”

“Four Maestros worked perfectly fine until ten seconds ago.”

“She specifically said it was a task she could only entrust to Maestros. He’s a Maestro, and he could help with whatever it is.”

“We are a very nice and capable group of Maestros already.”

“He’s strong. None of us can deny that. He’s got the strength of sound. We’d be more…diverse.”

“We’ve got light, ice, wind, and fire. That’s diverse enough.”

Once again, Octavia found herself rubbing her temples. Nearly every time she and Viola had bickered since their travels in tandem had begun, it had been a cherry-flavored argument. This couldn’t keep happening every time he was present.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You’re being stubborn in that you keep insisting on trying to take him with us.”

“You’re not thinking about this rationally!”

“Neither are you!”

Renato chuckled nervously. “Ladies, please--”

“Renato, shut up,” they growled in unison. He quickly obliged.

“I’m not following any of this,” Harper interrupted. “I have a feeling I’m missing some context here, but I honestly agree with Octavia--I think. Sonata didn’t specify exactly what she needed Maestros for, or anything that we should expect. Maybe there’s…safety in numbers, especially since she mentioned Dissonance at some point? Should we…just take him along for this?”

Viola glared at Harper, brutally chastising him with her eyes alone. He averted his gaze nervously.

“Viola,” Octavia began, “just for this. Once we’re done, we go our separate ways. If you never want to see him again, that’s that.”

“But I want to see him again,” Madrigal whined, curling up against Renato’s arm in full.

“Just for this,” Octavia repeated, intentionally ignoring Madrigal.

Viola’s deliberation was extensive. The way by which her eyes caught Renato several times over was not subtle. The way by which he, in turn, had crossed his arms uncomfortably was also not lost on Octavia. Some part of her truly felt bad for repeatedly subjecting him to Viola’s disdain. He wasn’t necessarily a nuisance. He was, at least, annoying.

“Just for this,” she finally muttered. “And he stays in a different room.”

“Yay, Renato’s coming with us! We’re gonna fight the darkness together as a team!” Madrigal cried.

Renato nearly fell from his chair as Madrigal outright threw her full body weight onto him. Complete and utter confusion was splashed clear across his face. It wasn’t even slightly his fault.

“Alright, you got me, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,” he admitted.

“I’ll explain everything in detail later. Long story short, we need your help for something tomorrow. You’re coming with us.”

He nodded slowly. Octavia was aware that it wasn’t a choice so much as a harsh order. She wasn’t fond of the look in his eye that spoke to enjoying her abrasiveness. She flinched.

“I mean, I did sign up for fun. Might as well do something while I’m here,” he replied, ruffling Madrigal’s hair playfully. She laughed with delight.

Harper cast his eyes between Madrigal and Renato before meeting Octavia’s own. She silently did what she could to convey her intent to fill the gaps later.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to eat and go to bed. I want peace and quiet in my life,” Viola moaned.

“Renato, go get your own room,” Octavia ordered. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He was absolutely pushing his luck. It was driving her insane. “You guys had enough of me already? I was thinkin’ I could stick around for a bit and--”

“Leave!” both girls hissed simultaneously, venom tainting their tones. To his credit, he untangled himself from Madrigal relatively quickly, practically bolting out of the room.

Harper blinked, his peace in stark contrast with the bang of the door slamming shut behind the fleeting Maestro. Madrigal frowned, crossing her arms where once had been Renato moments before.

“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I’m extremely confused,” Harper offered to no one in particular.

“Was he with you the entire time?” Viola asked sharply, rubbing her temples.

Octavia shook her head, placing one hand over her heart. “Viola, I swear to you, he just showed up when I got here. He was waiting outside. I have no idea how long he’s been here or how he found us.”

Viola sighed, deflating somewhat. “Did you at least have a good time exploring?”

Octavia stiffened a bit. He’d slipped her mind, in truth. “Actually, I, uh…met someone.”

Viola lowered her hands, draping her arms lazily over either side of the chair. “Yeah? Who else did you meet?”

Octavia shifted uncomfortably on the bed, casting her gaze at the floor. “I saw Drey again.”

His name alone was enough for Viola to straighten up instantly. Harper was no different. “Drey is here? Why?” she asked.

Octavia shook her head. “He said he’s making some sort of trade for more artifacts or something. Work-related stuff. He brought a new guy with him--I think his name was Samuel. We just happened to cross paths.”

“But he was just in Coda, wasn’t he?” Harper asked. “I thought only one train from Coda came to Velrose each week.”

“I thought I remembered him mentioning railway transport for the items he bought at the auction,” Viola offered, raising one hand to her mouth thoughtfully. “It’s possible he’s got his own private source of transport. Hypothetically, he could reroute it to Velrose himself.”

“But why so soon?” Harper continued. “I mean, why Velrose, anyway?”

Octavia shrugged. “Honestly, probably a coincidence. He mentioned having been to Velrose a few times at the auction. Actually, Samuel had said he’d been to Velrose a lot more times than Drey has. Not sure how often they come here.”

“He’s not following you, too, is he?” Viola muttered sarcastically, disdain still tainting her voice. Octavia had a feeling she knew why, given her current cherry-flavored frame of reference.

Even as a joke, regardless, the thought alone was still unnerving. “N-No. He’s the one that mentioned Velrose to me in the first place. He was probably already planning to go, especially since they’ve been here before. Also, he’s not like that, anyway.”

“You talk like you’re best friends,” Viola joked.

Octavia winced. “Well, no, but he seems like a good person.”

“If you say so,” she murmured, propping one elbow up against the armrest. She settled one cheek neatly into her hand, sighing far too deeply.

Once again, the strange experiences with unwelcome voices in her head were personal enough to be stifled. Octavia opted to keep them close to her heart. Technically, she’d had three surprise encounters today alone. Two made sense. One didn’t. She’d focus on the former.

“Was Etherion there?” Madrigal asked quietly, her voice monotone.

Her lack of enthusiasm was more than notable, and well more than enough to draw the eyes of every Maestro in unison. Octavia knew the Maestra’s tone to be lost on Harper, largely--uncharacteristic as it still was. Regardless, she’d seen it before. Viola, too, was no stranger. As could be expected, it was the same expression. It was the same blank gaze, the same tint of urgency behind her pupils, and the same utterly neutral body language that left her hands languishing quietly in her lap. It was unnatural. It was still every bit as uncomfortable. Octavia’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?” Viola replied hesitantly.

“Was Cadence there?” Madrigal asked instead, her tone still more than identical.

Octavia, too, hesitated. “S-She was, but I didn’t see her Harmonial Instrument. I didn’t even see a case. Honestly, I only spoke with her for a second.”

Madrigal’s eyes narrowed. Viola’s best efforts to break the threatening silence, at least, were to a baffled Harper’s benefit. It was possibly intentional.

“What’d she say?” she asked quickly, addressing Octavia in turn.

It took effort to ignore Madrigal’s razor-edged gaze boring holes into her skin. “She hasn’t said a word to Drey or anyone else about…you know. She said she won’t any time in the future, either.”

Viola exhaled heavily. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”

“You guys have got to start explaining who these people are,” Harper begged. “I knew about Drey, but exactly how many new friends did you make in the two hours I was outside?”

Octavia sighed. Even for the trace topics she’d opted to keep close to her heart, there was still an extreme amount of explaining left to indulge in. She wasn’t looking forward to it. At the very least, she hoped he’d take it all well. Phrasing was going to be a nightmare.

She was blessed, somewhat, in the way by which the walk to the church afforded her the opportunity to fill in the gaps--as promised. Harper was the easier of the two. Drey, Cadence, Renato, and Madrigal’s baffling interactions with both of the latter were difficult to recount in full. In particular, she’d gone out of her way to stifle a laugh at his wide-eyed reaction to the ridiculous situation between Madrigal and Renato. He took it better than Viola, at least.

Octavia was content to see him nod along with every statement, although he did a relatively poor job of concealing his notable overstimulation. Content-wise, Harper did, in fact, take it well. Mentally, she’d likely drained him. She offered a silent apology and even more silent praise for his efforts.

By comparison, Renato was a nightmare to handle--unsurprisingly, although in a different manner than usual. With the hot sunshine as her witness, she struggled to piece together her timeline aloud from start to finish. In the greatest detail she could muster, she carefully strung together every highlight she could.

She attempted to paint the events of the auction as vividly as words would allow. She relayed everything she’d learned thus far regarding Maestros, stolen directly from the mouth of Eleanor Vacanti. Most prominently, she fought to thoroughly clarify the current Velrose situation. She addressed every facet of their time in the Blessed City thus far, right down to Sonata’s previous playful riddle. Octavia hoped, for the most part, that she’d made clear the true ambiguity of whatever the acolyte had requested of them. She’d dragged Renato into it. He deserved that much.

If Harper was overwhelmed, then her words may as well have meant nothing to Renato. If the absolutely hopeless grin on his face was any indication, Octavia was positive that he was completely and utterly lost. She wished she could at least give him the benefit of the doubt, for how he occasionally nodded his head and offered quiet affirmations that spoke to some semblance of understanding. It didn’t make his interpretations any more meaningful. It didn’t make him any less of Renato.

“So this Drey guy is here, with a friend, and he brought the lightning girl.”

“Yes.”

“Why does she have lightning again?”

“Because she’s a Maestra, remember?”

“But, like…why lightning?”

Octavia groaned. “I don’t know, why do I have light? Why does anyone have anything?”

“And this girl we’re meeting today, what does she want us to do?”

She sighed. “I just told you I have no idea. None of us do. That’s the whole point of us bringing you, just in case we need more manpower.”

“Oh, I’ve got manpower,” he said with a wink. Octavia cast her eyes high, pleading with the sun above to sear Renato’s mouth off his face.

“Octavia, are you done yet?” Madrigal called, peering over Viola’s shoulder several feet away.

“Almost,” she replied, well aware of the exasperation in her voice.

Renato was becoming a Madrigal magnet. That, in turn, was becoming a problem. What little isolation Octavia could salvage for the sake of her attempts at full disclosure was hard-earned and easily compromised. Viola was fighting for her life to rein in the Maestra’s unyielding affection, effectively acting as a wall between the two Maestros. It wasn’t going well. He wasn’t helping, even visibly taken aback by her adamant affection as he’d been. When he wiggled his fingers at Madrigal playfully, Octavia scowled.

“Knock it off,” she hissed.

“I’m just waving,” he said with a deceivingly-innocent grin.

“Why do you act like this with her?” Octavia continued, her voice dripping with irritation.

He fixed her with the same grin instead. “You gettin’ jealous on me, braids?”

“I’m serious,” she growled.

Her tone was enough to compromise his grin, even if only for a fraction of a second. It almost felt good. She pushed. “The way you act around her is disgusting.”

It was with mild surprise that she watched the harsh word send hurt flashing across his eyes. Renato flinched. “What’s your problem with me hanging out with her?”

She didn’t hate it. She indulged every drop of venom she could find. “Listen to me--and listen close, because I’ll only say this once. Just because I’m not as angry as Viola about what you did doesn’t mean I’m not angry at all. I don’t know how many girls you go around randomly grabbing and kissing, and I don’t know what you think you’re trying to pull with her. Just know that if you ever break Madrigal’s heart, I will make your life a living Hell.”

He gulped. She was more than satisfied watching him squirm under her harsh gaze. Still, he found his voice regardless, weak as it was. “What makes you think I go around flirting with other girls?”

Octavia narrowed her eyes sharply. Admittedly, there was something strongly gratifying about seeing his usual grin slip clean off of his face. “You certainly seemed to get handsy pretty quick. It sure looks like you’ve practiced that routine a few times over. Has it ever worked for you?”

Octavia gave him a moment. She waited for him to crack. She waited for an admission of false affection, or perhaps a confession of impulsive actions on a path to heartbreak. Even an apology would’ve been satisfactory. Instead, he fell silent, burying his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. She pressed harder.

“Madrigal is our friend. You can already tell she wears her heart on her sleeve. If you ever take one step over that line and hurt her, I’ll--”

“You really think I’m not serious about her, don’t you?” he murmured, his tone just barely tinted with sadness.

It wasn’t even slightly the reaction she’d expected. “I…what?”

Renato struggled to concoct another grin. Still, it was strained, visibly faulty in every way.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, then I can promise she’s the first girl I’ve ever done that to. I already told you that my eyes are for Maddie only.”

“I don’t believe you,” Octavia spat.

“I like her,” he offered quietly. “I really, genuinely do. I’ll prove it to you someday.”

If she’d hoped for the opportunity to push him further, she’d lost it to the Maestra in question. His eyes flickered to Madrigal, and she took his distant attention with absolute delight. Her frantic waving earned a genuine smile. They traded--a playful wink for an airborne heart, drawn by overly-enthusiastic fingers, Octavia bit her tongue. She regretted this conversation, somewhat. She owed him for the auction, she owed him for this, and some fleeting part of her hoped to cheer for Madrigal’s happiness.

“We’re here,” Viola said, snapping Octavia out of her thoughts.

It was still just as impressive as it was yesterday. Octavia wasn’t sure at what point the towering church would stop being beautiful, if ever. The scalding sunshine blessed the shimmering stained glass with abundant resplendence this morning, and she liked to imagine it was making a good first impression for Renato. To his credit, he seemed equally transfixed. Of that, at least, she was satisfied.

Still, it was the bell that seemed to capture his attention by a more prominent margin. She didn’t particularly blame him, for how it had largely captivated the entire Blessed City in turn. It was just as marvelous this morning, similarly, as it had been each time she’d seen it thus far--distance notwithstanding. Even so, the Maestro cast his eyes high to the glimmering bronze for what seemed to be far longer than was reasonable. Of that, then, she didn’t push.

“You’ve brought another Maestro with you,” Sonata spoke joyfully, clasping her hands together with delight. “Wonderful.”

In the apparent radiance of her presence, Renato could only offer a tiny, awkward wave. “Hey there, Miss, uh, Acolyte, ma’am.”

Biting her lip was doing nothing to stifle Octavia’s smug smile. Seeing him humbled was, honestly, much more amusing than it should’ve been.

“We hope you don’t mind,” Viola offered. “Since we weren’t sure exactly what the task you had in mind entailed, we thought another Maestro would be beneficial.”

Sonata beamed. “No, this is wonderful news. I’m surprised you all are acquainted with so many Maestros.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. She wholeheartedly agreed.

“So then,” Harper began, “what…can we do for you?”

The silence was largely expected, given how long the question had gone unspoken. Sonata’s smile softened as she nestled her hands together behind her back. “I’d like to tell you all a bit of a story first.”

They mostly nodded in unison. Sonata nodded back with much the same gentle smile. She inhaled quietly.

“Blessed is the blossom warmed by the flame. Gifted is the flame born to warm the blossom. One thrives in the embrace of the other, eternal together. Should the flame cease to flicker, so, too, does the blossom wilt. There is no worth to a flame that does not warm. The blossom thrives as the flame burns on, in harmony and peace alike.”

Octavia blinked. Her confused silence was mutual thrice over. Madrigal, at least, clapped.

Harper tilted his head. “I…huh.”

Renato grinned uncomfortably. “Cool. It kinda sounds more like a poem, but it’s, uh…neat. Good stuff.”

Viola was less shaken by comparison. “What does it mean?” she finally asked.

Sonata’s knowing smile was a catalyst for concern. Octavia groaned inwardly, for what answer was more than likely to come. There was a headache that would follow in its wake, surely.

“You’ll find out in time. Perhaps you’ll solve the mystery,” she spoke with subtle joy in her tone.

I can respect your desire to crack the mystery of the city.

More so than the minor anguish of being absolutely correct as to the acolyte’s gleeful words, it was Drey’s that she found echoing instead. It wasn’t necessarily the time, nor the correct context. It was largely involuntary.

“Alright, a riddle!” Renato spoke with semi-enthusiasm, reclaiming her attention once more. “I love riddles. Big fan of riddles.”

“And,” the acolyte continued, possibly enjoying herself just a bit too much, “it’ll be key in today’s venture. Keep it in mind.”

“What do you want us to do?” Harper asked once again.

Sonata quieted, turning her back to the Maestros with painfully-slow steps. The sunshine beyond caught her gaze instead, aimless as it was. “There is another,” she finally answered softly.

And when she declined to continue, the silence that again stung the air was tainted with both confusion and mild irritation. The latter, granted, was largely Octavia’s to claim. Every cryptic statement was gradually growing aggravating.

“Another…what?” she pressed.

“Valkyrie’s Call has a twin,” the acolyte spoke at last. “And the Velrose Acolyte does not serve alone.”

“Are you…trying to say you’re not the only Velrose Acolyte?” Viola asked, her tone painted with disbelief. “That’s the opposite of what you said yesterday.”

Octavia, too, took issue with the same assertion. The idea of Valkyrie’s Call having two Maestras was nonsensical--from what she knew, at least. This was neither the time nor the place for her to conclude her understanding of the Maestro realm may have been compromised. She winced at the thought.

To her relief, Sonata shook her head, her gaze still distant as streams of blonde tickled her shoulders. “It is as you said. I’ve stated that I’m the only Velrose Acolyte. For Valkyrie’s twin, however, this is not the case.”

“There’s a…second bell?” Harper tried.

“Not a bell,” Sonata answered quickly. “But you’re on the right track. There is a second guardian in this region.”

The manner by which the words “in this city” were forgone was somewhat jarring. “In Velrose?” Octavia asked.

Once more, Sonata shook her head. Rather than answer further, she made for the chapel’s pulpit instead. For as cryptic as her actions were, Octavia largely preferred them to whatever confusing statements the acolyte could’ve offered up instead. The thought almost felt rude. She couldn’t help it.

Upon Sonata’s return, Octavia found several small, tenderly-lilac rectangles nestled softly into the fabrics draping her arms. They numbered five. She raised an eyebrow.

“There is one for each of you. You will need them for this task,” the acolyte clarified, distributing them to each Maestro accordingly.

When Sonata pressed the little square of gentle lilac firmly into Octavia’s outstretched palm, the texture scuffing her skin was achingly familiar. The leather, of note, she could’ve sworn she’d encountered recently. In every way, then, the flimsy papers and the delicate latch spoke to much the same as the rosy passport nestled safely in her backpack even now. She ran one thumb over the material carefully.

“Are we going somewhere new?” Madrigal asked, her voice loaded with far too much excitement.

Sonata smiled beneath Madrigal’s contagious enthusiasm. “Just as Valkyrie bears a twin, so, too, does Velrose as well.”

“A second city?” Harper and Viola nearly cried in tandem.

When Sonata nodded, Octavia’s eyes widened. True to her words, the insignia was different. Upon closer inspection, it was not an intricate rose pressed deep into the leather, as she’d grown used to. Every curving line and intersecting shape instead wove what, on first glance, spoke to a delicate flame. It was elaborate, if nothing else--perhaps more so than its floral companion. This, too, she ran her thumb over experimentally.

“Correct,” Sonata replied, a tiny splash of pride tinting her voice yet again. “It stands by the name of Velpyre.”

Renato shuddered. “That’s a bit of an ominous name, isn’t it?”

“As ominous as its crisis,” the acolyte answered. “I, too, have a twin--one who guards Valkyrie’s counterpart. However, she falters in her duties.”

“The other Harmonial Instrument has another acolyte,” Viola interpreted hesitantly. “In…Velpyre.”

“One who shirks her responsibility and endangers innocent lives,” Sonata added. “The Dissonance often slips through her fingers and threatens those who rely on her for protection.”

“What, uh, what the hell is the Dissidence?” Renato whispered, leaning towards Octavia in the slightest.

It was neither the time nor the place. Still, it was the one thing she’d somehow forgotten to elaborate on in full. “Dissonance,” she corrected in a whisper equally soft. “I’ll…it’s a long story.”

“Why can’t she stop it?” Harper asked quietly of the acolyte.

Sonata shook her head. “I don’t know. However, this cannot go on. Have you begun to understand why I’ve called you all here?”

“You want us to get this other acolyte to do her job?” Renato guessed, waving his passport half-heartedly. If he had qualms as to the finer details of the task, violet-tinted as they were, he made no indication of such.

When Sonata nodded, Madrigal tilted her head. “But why can’t you go to Velpyre yourself?”

Sonata’s expression settled into something solemn. “I cannot leave Velrose. As its acolyte, I must stay above.”

“Does that mean you can never leave at all? That’s…kinda messed up,” Harper offered sadly. “Like, the whole city?”

He didn’t get his answer. Octavia cut him off. “Wait, wait, wait. ‘Above’? What’s ‘above’, exactly?”

Sonata fell silent. “If you’re all ready to begin, I’ll show you the way to Velpyre.”

Confused, Octavia nodded anyway. She wasn’t the only one, granted.

“Born ready,” Renato replied weakly.

Sonata made for the door. She gestured for them to follow. They obliged. It was a reflex. At this point, Octavia had largely surrendered to wherever the acolyte saw fit to lead. She liked to imagine actually engaging in the task in question would provide more clarity than whatever cryptic crumbs Sonata saw fit to sprinkle. It was a losing battle.

It wasn’t so much that she doubted Sonata’s leadership as much as it was baffling in its own right. For how the acolyte walked clear past the front doors of the church, Octavia raised an eyebrow. The train station was well on the other side of the city, and yet they’d continued far past the exit. If there was something more to be shown prior to their departure, Sonata didn’t--or, at least hadn’t yet--said as much. Octavia had half a mind to believe the acolyte wouldn’t, anyway, perplexing as she was. This was getting more elaborate by the minute.

At the very least, Viola seemed to be struggling with much the same overstimulation. With the Maestra’s own eyes scraping along the plush carpet with every unhurried step, Octavia could physically see the thoughts being dragged along the way. A second city, a second acolyte, and a second Harmonial Instrument were all overwhelming at best and completely unbelievable at worst. It was to say nothing of wherever Dissonance fell into the equation. She stifled a sigh. It was either that or a headache.

How many stairs one church could harbor--size be damned--was a mystery. Still, Velrose endeavored to deliver, apparently. Sonata’s guidance had left them at the foot of yet more, descending instead as they were. They had light, granted, flickering flames touching upon cramped stone as they were. It didn’t change the discomfort of the impending descent, if the nature of Sonata’s path was any indicator.

Going down was easier than going up, hopefully, and the sigh that slipped from Viola’s lips surely spoke to a similar thought. Sonata didn’t hesitate. By proxy, Octavia didn’t have the luxury.

It was an arduous spiral, extensive in its own right. It was kinder to Viola’s lungs, if nothing else. Still, to descend and ascend alike were lengthy tasks--although for different reasons entirely. Where the Velrose bell tower had blighted her with a physical challenge, this descent instead confronted her with suffocating silence. It was widespread, and Sonata did little to alleviate its grasp. Octavia actively wished, for once, that Renato would say something ridiculous. The echo of footsteps off every wall was slowly driving her insane. Both staircases were miserable in their own ways. She couldn’t quite pick her poison.

Sonata’s words, when they came, were sudden enough that they outright startled Octavia. “Make for the church. Find the acolyte. Question her and make her perform her duty, however you must. I trust your judgment, all of you.”

Octavia sighed. A terrible decision, really.

The room that awaited them upon their full descent could hardly be called a room, given its enormity. It was tremendous, empty, and mildly intimidating. It was worsened, somewhat, by the lack of any given door, window, or major object of interest aside from fickle candlelight that illuminated a path to nothing. For how truly large the space was, it was suffocating in its own way regardless. Octavia shuddered. She regretted complaining about the stairs.

Still, the ominous room had its quirks. The iron plating, for one, caught her eye far later than was reasonable. It was centralized, elevated, and circular in its own right. Its size was perhaps more distressing, although it was the strikingly familiar pattern cut deep into the metal that was of her highest priority. It took her a moment to place it, for how recently she’d seen that twisted little flame pressed innocently into leathery lilac instead.

The bell, above all else, was incredibly confusing. It was tiny. It sparkled, it dangled, and the pitiful pole it called a home offered up only a scarlet rope for its silver troubles. It was almost ironic, given the display one thousand times more splendorous crowning the apex of the Velrose Church. It would’ve been cute, had the entire scene not been so absolutely inexplicable.

Octavia never got the chance to ask one single question, regardless. Sonata was upon the little rope before she’d had the chance to blink, tugging swiftly. The delicate ting of tiny silver echoed extensively off every empty wall, circular and all-encompassing as they were. It was fruitless, at least immediately, and dozens more questions had begun to rush to Octavia’s tongue already. She sat cleanly on the border of curiosity and anxiety. She was teetering towards the latter, if her instincts had anything to say about it. She eyed the acolyte warily.

The rumbling beneath her feet was absolutely jarring, by comparison. She outright jumped at the sudden presence of sound at all, and more so for the noise that followed iron scraping against stone. The plate moved largely of its own accord, shifting with a steady slowness that was equal parts fascinating and distressing to witness. What that left her with was indiscernible darkness beyond, untraceable and impossible to dissect from a distance.

No amount of standing on the tips of her toes as it gave way ever further was doing her any favors. It was almost terrifying exactly how wide the blackened hole beneath the guardian metal grew to become, massive in its own right. The dimly-lit stairs that eventually came to light didn’t assuage her fears in any capacity. She very much did not enjoy the direction this entire situation was heading.

“Oh, this should be fun,” Renato muttered, the anxiety in his tone immediately betraying his sarcasm. “Hope we’re all fine with tight spaces.”

“It opens up quickly. Step inside and you’ll see,” Sonata clarified. “Be on your guard, though. The Cursed City is unkind, even with approved passage.”

Viola slowly buried her face in her hands with a groan. “I know you didn’t just call it that. Right before we go in the hole? Seriously?”

Sonata shook her head, smiling softly in turn. “Do not be afraid. You five will stand your ground marvelously. Trust in yourselves, and trust in your ability to change the minds of others.”

That eased absolutely none of her fears. Even now, Octavia had to wonder if there was anything else Sonata had miraculously forgotten to relay. It took more than a full moment’s hesitation to will herself forward, ambling anxiously in the direction of the threatening darkness in question. Laying her foot on the top step was enough to make her heart pound, and she peered over her shoulder anxiously. She found three equally-fearful gazes. How Madrigal could smile so brightly in such a place was absolutely beyond her.

“It’s all part of the adventure,” Madrigal whispered reassuringly, bouncing on the tips of her toes with far too much excitement. Octavia couldn’t stifle a laugh. Her brilliant smile would be enough to challenge the darkness, at least. It was one relief.

She was enough of a motivator. With resolve largely stolen from a spirit of wind at her back, Octavia fought to take one tentative second step downwards. The booming voice that greeted her movements in response erupted from below, exploding from the darkness and startling her fiercely. She nearly lost her footing, and the idea of tumbling down into the dark was utterly horrifying.

“Identify yourself,” a deep voice unseen demanded.

To Octavia’s tremendous relief, it was Sonata who answered on her behalf. Over her shoulder, the acolyte peered down into the depths. “Allow them passage, under the guidance of the Velrose Acolyte,” she called.

For a moment, only silence arose from far below. It took more than a moment for the voice to respond in kind. “Understood, Lady Acolyte. They will be welcomed.”

Sonata met Octavia’s fearful eyes with a smile. “Don’t worry. The authorities within Velpyre are kind to Maestros. The citizens are your only true concern.”

Exactly half of her statement was calming. Octavia really, really didn’t want to entertain the other half. She threw what was left of her worries down into the dark, forcing one foot in front of the other in a descent she questioned more every second. The echo of footsteps behind her, steadily increasing in number, was comforting. She didn’t enjoy being at the front. It spared them the trouble, at least.

It was a far shorter descent, thankfully. She’d been fearful that she’d be condemned to yet another lengthy staircase. Once more, she still continued to contemplate exactly how many stairs one singular church could shelter. The idea of yet more stairs awaiting beyond even these was almost laughable, if not miserable. Viola would surely die, if so.

She entertained the concept of a train station deep beneath the earth itself, for wherever that would lead to. It would explain the passports, let alone their constriction to the church itself. Sonata, in all of her mildly-aggravating ambiguity, had not once specified as to the actual voyage to Velpyre. There was not one indication of its placement on a map, nor its distance from the Blessed City overall. The trip to Velrose alone had afforded only barren landscapes of endless meadows and empty plains, by which not another city had greeted her eyes for miles. Another voyage was sure to be lengthy in its own right.

The base of the stairs harbored nothing even slightly indicative of underground transport. Really, it harbored nothing that spoke to transport at all. There were buildings, at least. There were pathways. There was ornate architecture, abundant and mirroring the style of the Blessed City above. It was disheveled, granted, every cracked stone beyond the foot of the steps in stark contrast with the adequately-maintained housing and structures clustered so closely to one another. If she squinted, they, too, were somewhat crumbled and compromised at points.

She followed every path with her eyes, for the downward slope each one gradually took. The stern-faced men flanking either side of the staircase were of zero concern. Further and further did her gaze trail along the cobblestone, crawling along the cracking paths towards the dim horizon.

And beyond, there rose one singular building far more splendorous than those that came before it. Pointed spires peeked shyly above the sloping horizon, and it was with effort that Octavia came to the tips of her toes to observe. It, too, was a mirrored image, ornate and beautiful even from a distance. It didn’t have a bell tower, granted. It was still more than enough to hit her in the stomach.

It was no path to a city. It was a city.

She found her validation nearly instantly. It was born of the voice at her side, expressionless and neutral as the man spoke. His words were a mirror of their own, somewhat. She wondered if the knot in her stomach was growing to become a permanent fixture, at this point.

“Welcome to Velpyre,” he half-heartedly greeted, his tone utterly apathetic. “Watch your step.”